𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

☾ 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 ☽

𝙁𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

Short puffs of air against my neck stir me awake.

I raise my left arm to rub my face, but it stops moving halfway, causing me to tilt my head to the side to see what is barricading my arm from moving any further.

It's Francine. She's lying on top of me, with her arm wrapped around my neck, and the other beneath the sheets.

A smile forms on my lips, as I observe her sleeping state. The only time I've seen her sleeping before was when we were children. Francine would always invite me to her house for sleepovers since her parents had a strict curfew and didn't allow her to spend the night at my house later than eight.

The sleepovers would always consist of us playing countless video games, board games if necessary, and wrestling.

Not actual wrestling, but the funny fact is that our tickle fights originated from there. Whenever Francine would beat me on whichever game we were playing, I would lunge at her and begin rolling with her on the floor. I would never actually hit her, if I did—which was rare—it would be soft punches usually around her stomach. That's when I realized that I could make the "fighting" more interesting if I tackled her. So, that's when I began tickling her instead.

It became a ritual for us. One would tackle the other to the floor and tickle them until they "surrendered" when the other attained victory. Now, the tickling became a little more intense than before since we've grown, and things began to change...such as feelings. Feelings that flourished, and never had the chance to stop expanding.

Occasionally, I wish I never developed feelings for Francine because I knew they would never be reciprocated.

It would result in a broken heart and the loss of the company of my best friend. I couldn't bear the consequences that it could bring, but my feelings were inevitable. How could I dismiss what my heart felt for her? The more time I spent with her, the more they sprouted, and the more difficult it became to push them down. Push them so far down that they wouldn't reach my heart ever again.

Despite my numerous attempts to avoid her...I couldn't. I just couldn't do that to my heart. I didn't want to know what it felt like to be heartbroken; however, in the back of my mind, I knew I would have to deal with it at some point.

My heart aches as I recall those memories. I can feel a large lump forming in my throat, as I ponder the future consequences of sleeping with Francine. Because once she wakes up, regret will wash all over her somnolent features, and she'll book it out of that front door, just like the moment we first kissed.

I dread the moment that will occur. It causes me to sit up on my elbows and climb off the mattress. As I take a step forward, I sense clothing underneath my foot. I bend over to pick up the clothing on the floor and take them to the laundry room across the bedroom.

Once the washing cycle begins, I step out of the laundry room and make my way down the corridor toward the kitchen.

I swing open the fridge, attain the carton of eggs and set it on the counter. Then, I grab a pan from the kitchen cabinet, set it on the stove, and prepare to crack the eggs.

. . .

I flip the eggs and press them firmly against the pan with the spatula. I can distinguish a brief shuffling in the distance, but I dismiss it as the eggs begin smelling burnt. I pull out two more eggs from the fridge and begin pouring a small amount of oil again. As I begin cracking the first egg, I feel a pair of hands snake around my waist. A mumbled, "morning" comes from behind me.

"Good morning," I say with the biggest smile on my face. I didn't expect Francine to go back to her normal self after what happened last night...

"Are you making breakfast?" Francine asks while peering her head over my arm, practically drooling at the sight.

I hum in response, receiving a light squeeze around my waist in return. Once the eggs finish cooking, I place them on a plate separate from the previous ones I cooked.

"Here," I say while handing her the plate that contains two eggs. She receives it, making her way toward the dining table and immediately digging in. I chuckle as she looks up at me smiling with a mouth full of eggs.

As I settle on the seat across from her, she stabs the last piece of her egg, shoving it in her mouth and beginning to excuse herself from the table.

"Wait, sit down, I need to tell you something..." I extend my hand, clasping it around her wrist and motioning her back on the chair across from me. "There's something I left out from our conversation yesterday, which you deserve to know." My hand leaves her wrist, resting on the side of the plate ahead of me.

"I never liked Adriana," I start.

Francine's eyes widen ever so slightly. She shifts in her seat, leaning her upper body toward me, signaling me to continue.

"She definitely liked me, though; without a doubt. But I never returned her feelings. I said I liked her to see how you would react because...well, I liked you."

Francine begins looking anywhere but my face, and my heart sinks.

"That night I automatically knew it was you who I was kissing, because of the jacket...the necklace," I admit in almost a whisper.

Francine's eyes meet mine and that's when I notice the tears brimming her eyelids. She blinks them away rapidly before exhaling loudly and looking me back in the eye.

"Well, I already confessed that it was me you kissed that night, and you've already admitted the obvious," she steals a quick glance down at her lap before drawing her head back up. A tear slips from her eye and lands on the table. "I just want to apologize for taking advantage of the moment back then. It was a really shitty move and I should've told you what I have done before you accepted me as your friend." Her voice trembles along with her lower lip that she is currently biting on. It breaks my heart to see her like this. I don't want her to blame herself for something that hadn't even affected my life as much as she believes it has.

"France," I say, controlling the shiver that just erupted in my entire body. "I really like you—no, I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I completely disagree with you. I don't think what you did was shitty. I don't because I wasn't even expecting to kiss Adriana that night. I was so relieved it was you. So technically, that makes me the shitty person for not wanting to kiss Adriana."

"But I—"

"Francine, if you blame yourself one more fucking time, I swear to God, I'm going to kiss you."

That shuts her up.

A smirk plays on her lips before she opens her mouth and says, "I blame myself for all of it. It's all my fault. I ruined your life, I ruined Adriana's. The whole world is going to be ruined because of me. I am soo—" Leaning over the table, I take her face into my hands and crash our lips together. A shock of pain overwhelms me for a brief second because her teeth just clamped on my lower lip. I can taste copper, that's how I know she drew blood. Does that make me stop kissing her, though? No. Not at all. I don't mind a little bit of blood mixed with our tongues.

It's hot actually. Very hot. So hot that I get up from my seat, round the table to meet her at her chair, and ascend her into my arms to make this even hotter than it already is.

☾ dammm, bro 😳 ☽